Reality Can Be Beautiful Too
by Bethany Ruth
Summary: Eames is struggling with insomnia, and every time he does sleep he dreams about a strange man. Every dream ends the same way and it's tearing Eames apart.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I own neither the characters nor the story from the film Inception. That is a work which belongs to Christopher Nolan**

**Readers: This is intended as a taster chapter, let me know if you want more or if you like it etc. I will update this more in the near future.**

The man was tall, a little taller than Eames, with slicked back, dark brown hair. His eyes were a deep, dark chocolate colour that Eames was struggling to avoid. Like a proper gentleman, the man wore a tailored, three piece suit. Eames saw that it was a silver/grey colour, and the dark, charcoal coloured tie matched his shiny leather shoes. Eames held the man's wrist and looked at the time on the stranger's silver Rolex watch; it was late, around eleven in the evening. Eames shouldn't still be out at this time really, he was in the middle of a period of attempting to go to bed earlier so that he could get more rest. His insomnia was getting the better of him nowadays.

"I'm sorry, I should really be going." Eames tried to leave, but the man reversed the hold Eames had on his wrist and gripped him tightly.

"Don't go." His velvet voice was like milk, and his American accent tasted like an exotic cocktail in Eames' ears. "I was hoping I could show you around a little, we could have a good time together maybe…" His voice trailed off at the end, and his eyes became clouded with suggestion. Eames looked around the street they were on to see that nobody was there, and in the distance, between the tall, old buildings, he could see the Eiffel Tower. Now Eames was confused; when did they come to Paris? Who was this man? Why were there no other people? "Don't you wanna stay and spend more time with me?" The man's sultry voice whispered to Eames in the golden light of the street light.

"Well, yes I do but, I should really go." Eames saw the man's expression change from lust to anger as he realised that Eames' confusion had gotten the better of him and he was too absorbed in his strange surroundings to be seduced by the strangers.

"You've brought this on yourself Eames." The man sighed, reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out – to Eames' shock – a handgun. Eames started begging, pleading for his life. The man held the gun to his own temple and pulled the trigger. Eames screamed when the gun went off and the man fell to the ground. Eames sat with his body, crying from the shock of everything that had happened this evening. After an hour or so, Eames felt the shock drift into a numbness, which in turn became exhaustion.

Eames' eyes drifted open and – as he stared up at a blank, white ceiling – he realised that he wasn't on a street in Paris, but in fact in his own bed, in Manhattan. Another dream. Eames had been having dreams for the last month which all centred on this mysterious man. Eames' imagination was a powerful beast, and so he was sure he had made up this man entirely. It happened often, just usually not to the same level of detail with which it was happening recently.

The only thing about it that really got to Eames was the fact that in every dream, the man always killed himself. Eames could never figure it out.


	2. Chapter 2

"Nate?" Eames turned on his side to face her. The dream still had him a little stunned, and in the dark of the bedroom it meant that his eyes were struggling to adjust to see her face. "Nathaniel?"

"I'm alright."

"You sure? You just gasped and you were breathing really loud. Bad dream?"

"Yeah, yes. Just a bad dream, Jen." Eames had been dating Jennifer for a couple of months, and Eames was beginning to wonder whether their relationship was a good idea. She was fun, cute, and even got on with Eames' best friend Yusuf. Better than any of his other girlfriends had. But just like all the other girlfriends he'd had up to this point, something just didn't feel right. Eames was so frustrated. This always happened. Eames got close to a girl, and then had to end it and spend the next month feeling miserable.

The next morning, Eames and Jennifer sat down to their breakfast of coffee and bagels. The dream Eames had had was still playing over and over in his mind. He hadn't had a dream so vivid in all his life.

"Are we too cliché? Having coffee and bagels, in Manhattan. That's ridiculous. Even as a born and bred New Yorker I feel like that's too cliché."

"Hmm?"

"Nate, are you even listening to me? What is up with you lately?"

"Sorry Jen, I've just…been preoccupied."

"Is it work? Because I'm sorry, but I don't really see the intrinsic complexities involved in being a writer. I mean, I get that writer's block is a thing, but you've been typing away at your laptop nonstop for the last month. What are you writing, a novel?" Jennifer laughed.

"It's hardly any of your business is it." Eames snapped at her, already feeling the ominous moths in his stomach. _So this is how it will end_.

"Wow, that was…cruel."

"I'm really sorry Jen. I know I've been uptight for the last few days."

"The last few days? Try the last few weeks Nate! You've been a total ass to me, and it's really not okay anymore."

"Jennifer. I'm sorry, but I think we both know that this is not going to work anymore. I've had a wonderful time with you but, something's missing, and I'm not sure what it is." There was quiet in the kitchen for a moment, and then Jennifer spoke up.

"I've been thinking the same thing for a while. Nate, can I be completely honest with you?"

"Please, yes. I'm driving myself crazy not knowing what it is that causes this to happen with all of my relationships."

"Nate…I think you might be gay."

"Wha-"

"Before you take this the wrong way; it's not the sex or anything like that: you're great in bed. And it's definitely not your sense of style, you're actually really tacky. There's just something about you. I don't know what it is. I mean, you've always been camp, but this is something else. I'm sorry I didn't say anything sooner, but I was really enjoying our relationship. Even if you are gay, you're a great boyfriend." Eames couldn't help but smile.

"Jen, you've always been so sweet, and yet simultaneously so brutally honest. It's what I adore about you."

"See!" Exclaimed Jen, pointing excitedly at Eames across the breakfast bar. "Stuff like that right there!" She did a half-hearted attempt at mimicking Eames' English accent. "It's what I adore about you! It's just so…gay! I'm sorry but it is!" They both laughed and Eames was forced to wipe a tear from his eye.

"Oh Jen, I know what you mean. I'm so sorry, I wish I could be the right man for you."

"I wish I could be the right man for you too." Soon the laughter died down to a quiet which made Eames uneasy. "I guess I'll clear my stuff out of your room and be on my way."

"Yeah…I guess so. Again, I'm so sorry Jen."

"Don't be, we had a great time." Jen smiled.

After Eames had helped Jen pack her odds and ends that were around his apartment; they said their somewhat sad goodbyes. Eames walked around his apartment aimlessly for a while, debating what Jen had said. _Was she right? Am I gay? It's as if she knew about those dreams… _Eames collapsed onto his sofa after a while, feeling exhausted and drained. Eames dreamed…

He sat at a small café sipping an Americano coffee and nibbling on a croissant. "How are you? The break up must have been pretty bad." Eames looked up and saw that the handsome stranger he'd met many times was with him once again. He wore a sandy coloured suit with a chocolate brown shirt and a neat, taupe tie. His hair was combed back, revealing ears which Eames was beginning to think made him resemble a monkey.

"How did you know about the break up?"

"Just heard it around."

"From who? Who have you been talking to?" Eames' voice raised.

"Calm down, Nate."

"Nobody calls me Nate except for Jen. When did you see her?"

"Earlier today. I found her on her way home from your apartment."

"What do you mean you _found_ her?"

"Don't panic, she's alright. We just needed her for a while to hold until we were done with you."

"Who's '_we_'?! Where's Jen?! What've you done with her?!" Eames pushed his chair away and stood face to face with the man. The stranger put his hands on Eames' chest, trying to calm him. "Who _are_ you?" Eames eyed the man viciously.

"Who I am isn't important-"

"Who. Are. You." The man sighed, resigned.

"My name is Arthur. Your name is Nathaniel. Your now ex-girlfriend is called Jennifer. Happy now?"

"No. Everyone but Jen calls me Eames. Don't call me Nathaniel again please."

"Okay, Eames. I'm sorry."

"It's alright. Now, when I've met you in my dreams, why have you always tried to seduce me?"

"Eames, are you sure you want to-"

"I want nothing but honesty from you at all times please, Arthur."

"Alright, but you asked for it. I've been trying to seduce you because my background research on you suggests that you're subconsciously inclined towards sexual activities with men." Eames was shocked for a brief moment, and then felt the rush of questions hit his chest all at once. He sat back down and pressed his fingers against his temples. _Brilliant. A headache._

"Okay. What background research?"

"Basic Google searching and access to the occasional therapist file."

"Okay. Why did you do background research on me?"

"You're the mark. If I didn't do background research I wouldn't be doing my job." Eames felt the ground shake a little beneath his feet.

"What's your job?"

"I'm a Point Man. Basically I find out everything about the mark so that the rest of the team can infiltrate your dreams as effectively as possible."

"If you've been infiltrating my dreams, why have you decided to come to me now whilst I'm awake?" The ground shook again, this time more fiercely.

"Eames…this is a dream." Arthur pulled out his handgun again and shot himself straight through the temples. Shocked, Eames looked around him – panicked – as all the buildings began to crash around him, and he felt pure fear when he looked up to see a large block of one of the apartment buildings falling towards him. And then nothing.

Eames' eyes fluttered open. His lids were heavy and his left arm felt a little numb. He was lying on his sofa still. He'd been dreaming the entire time. Again. Eames looked around the room and wasn't shocked to see that he was alone. Eames sat up with his head in his hands for a while, until he heard some rustling coming from his bedroom. He stood up and cautiously walked to his bedroom.

The bedroom door gently creaked as Eames pushed it, certain now that someone was in his room. Sure enough, there sat Arthur, on Eames' bed, rummaging through Eames' bedside table. Eames felt sick. Arthur wasn't real: it was all just a dream. How could this man be sat in his room, genuinely there before him? Was Eames going mad?

"You're not going mad if that's what you're thinking." Arthur said reassuringly, glancing at Eames as he closed the drawer, only to open the one below it and continue to move things around half-heartedly. "I know this must seem really strange." Arthur said after a while, noticing that Eames had elected not to speak up. "But I am real, and everything I've told you is true. On the coffee table in your living room there's a PASIV. That's the machine that we use in the dream-share world to become a part of each other's dreams. Every night I've been sneaking in here and sharing dreams with you. I was doing my job. Sort of."

Eames couldn't think properly, he just about managed to sit down at the bottom of the bed, awaiting further explanation from Arthur.

"After your break-up with Jennifer, I thought that my work would be easier. But when I saw you asleep in here, I could see all the stress in your face. You looked exhausted, and I knew I couldn't do it anymore. But I'll be in serious trouble if I don't get you on board, so I couldn't just leave you and stop being a part of your dreams. I thought honesty might help me right now. Eames. I'm really sorry for what I've done to you. I can't imagine how you must be feeling right now."

"No, you can't." Eames said after a long time of silence. Arthur had finally stopped his shuffling and was now just sat perpendicular to Eames, waiting for him to speak once more. "Why me? Why is this happening to me?"

"It's because of who you are Eames. You have the perfect personality and creativity to be an excellent forger."

"An excellent what, sorry?" Eames turned to face Arthur, broken free from his paralytic shock by the unfamiliar term.

"A forger. It's a member of the dream team who can take on the appearance of another person within a dream. That means they look and act like someone else. The creativity involved in being a writer means that you'd be ideal. You're used to making up entire people, everything about them; names, histories, appearances. That's perfect for being a forger."

"Why me? Why not another writer? I'm sure there's plenty in New York, why me?"

"You're open minded. You're not set in your ways about genres in your work, and you're open-minded enough that you didn't freak out when Jennifer told you she thought you were gay. Open-minded enough that hopefully you'll be open to trying dream-share with me, and maybe eventually with my employer as well."

"That doesn't specify why your employer chose me. Why me _specifically_ Arthur?" Eames was getting irritated with Arthur: none of his answers properly answered any of Eames' questions.

"Your background check showed that you were the most likely to be gay and attracted to me. I was intended as the bait for whoever my employer chose."

"Okay…Why does your employer need a-a _forger_?"

"He's in business with an engineering company who need a job done. The job will only work if we have a forger. My employer doesn't trust people who are already in the business because they're all pretty sketchy. So, my employer wanted to bring a new person into the business and train him. You happened to be perfect for the job."

"Hold on, bait? What do you mean bait?"

"Well, I was supposed to get you romantically involved with me in your dreams, to the point where you'd fall in love with me. Then the plan was that you'd start seeing me in real life, like at the bookstore and that bistro you like. Naturally, you'd want to follow the dreams and you'd ask me out. Our real relationship would follow, as smooth as the one you'd been dreaming all along. I'd tell you the truth about my job, that I was a dream worker. You'd be curious, so I would introduce you to it. Then – hopefully – you'd be willing to come and work with me."

"You thought it would be _that_ easy? Just seduce me and have me _following_ you like a loyal dog and that would be it? Are you _serious_?"

"Eames, I'm sorry-"

"Oh you're _sorry_! _Oh_! Well that makes it all better." Eames stood up, grabbing Arthur by the collar of his shirt, pulling him up, and slamming him against a wall. Eames leaned in very close to Arthur, close enough that he could smell his minty breath. "Listen to me, Arthur. I may not know you, I know I've just met you in reality, but _believe_ me: I am _nothing_ like the person you think you know. The person you've researched, the person you've followed for months, that person is not me."

"E-eames, I know you're mad but-"

"No, Arthur! You don't know I'm mad. Why would you agree to do this to another person? Try and lure them in with your eyes and your body and it was all a lie! For money? Were you doing this for money?"

"Well," Arthur said quietly. "The business needs a good forger, a forger with a good heart. I think you could do that."

"Why?!" Eames leaned in closer. Their eyes and mouths only millimetres apart.

"_Because_, Eames! I do know you. I know you don't know me but I know so much more about you than you think I do. I think you're sweet, caring, but strong as well. You'd do so well in this business. I'm really sorry for what I've done to you, but I'm so glad I did it because now I know that my employer was right: you're definitely worth pursuing." Arthur took a deep breath and, grabbing Eames' dressing gown lapels, closed the minute gap between them and pressed his lips against the other man's. Eames' anger transformed into a passion he didn't know he had. Eames moaned deep in his throat and moved his hands to Arthur's hip bones, pushing him against the wall and kissing him deeply. Arthur let out a breathy sigh and moved his arms around Eames' neck, allowing their bodies to be pressed against each other.

_What am I doing?_ Eames thought. _This man has just ruined my life, and I only just met him! _Eames grunted, pushing Arthur away from him. Arthur looked at him, confused and sad, his lips plump and red from kissing. Eames could barely stop looking at them. Then he remembered the rage Arthur had put inside him, and had to hold back from punching the wall. "Get out."

"What? Eames, come on I'm sor-"

"I don't want to hear it. Get out of my house Arthur, I don't want to see you anymore. Never come here again."

"Eames-"

"_Out!_"

With that, Arthur left, embarrassed and sad, his head held low. Eames collapsed back onto his bed, exhausted and confused. _Was Jen right? Am I gay? Oh god, where is Jen? What's happening to me_? Eames fell asleep, and for the first time in months, dreamed of something other than Arthur…


End file.
